Stronger
by WritingFromTheSoul
Summary: The demons in the outside world are just as dangerous as the ones inside his own. Running away from his own home, Tony has turned to the street's resources. What will he find? Rated T for some strong language and adult issues. Eventual Tiva. AU Tony.
1. Run Away

**For Troy :)**

Twelve-year-old Tony stared out at his father and his friends in the living room from his room. They were laughing unnaturally loud and swigging nasty-smelling stuff from bottles, yelling and slurring their words. Tony knew what they were: they were drunk. Again. He dared not go out, for fear what happened last time he had.

"_Let go of me!" Tony cried as the men threw him to the ground._

"_Hey, look, he's crying!" One of the guys slurred, straddling him, raining down blow after blow on his face. Pain riddled him, and he felt something warm and sticky spread all over his face._

"_GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!" Tony screamed, spitting blood, kicking him in the groin. Suddenly, the man's bloodshot eyes turned angry._

"_Little bitch." And he kicked Tony in the side, hard, once, twice, three times._

_Tony lay, barely conscious, on the now blood-stained carpet. He painfully steadied himself on his hands and knees, and crawled to his room, his vision coming in and out of focus. He reached for his old teddy bear, the one his mother had given him before she left. He sat on the ground, with the teddy bear, sobbing, wanting to disappear. _

_Or die._

So Tony stayed in his room. He gingerly touched the still-dark bruise on his cheek, and winced. He told his teachers he fell. They raised eyebrows, but asked no questions. They thought he was a troublemaker, anyways. He sat on his bed and pulled out his math homework, and started doing it, desperately hoping his father's friends would leave. But he knew they wouldn't. He knew they would crash on his couch, then wake up tomorrow, rubbing their heads and complaining loudly about major headaches. Tony swore to himself he would never touch a bottle, ever. Even if his life depended on it. He would never drink, because he saw what it did. It destroyed people from the inside out.

* * *

"Get up, lazy ass."

Tony was being shaken awake by his father.

He blinked groggily. "What?"

"Come on. We're going."

"Going where?"

"Why the hell do you need to know?" His father growled, grabbing his shoulder. Tony ripped his hand off.

"Don't touch me." Tony growled back.

His father backhanded him, making Tony double over in pain. He clutched his cheek, but gritted his teeth, determined not to show pain.

"Come on, let's go."

Tony checked the time on the stove: 7:00. He had crashed pretty early.

They drove in silence, Tony not saying anything. He didn't want two bashed-in cheeks.

They finally pulled up to a small house, after driving for about two hours. Tony could hear people. He suddenly got nervous.

"Get out."

Tony did as told, opening the door and making sure not to slam it.

"Come on."

Tony followed his father, not saying a word.

His father opened the screen door to a room full of people. They were all either smoking some gross-smelling stuff or swigging something. He tensed less up when he saw his cousins, in the corner of the room.

"Hey, Tony." His cousin Mickey clapped him on the back, showing a big grin at seeing his little cousin. "Long time, no see, Lil' Cuz."

"Hey, Mick. What's going on?"

Suddenly, Mickey got a little tense. "IDK, little man. We all were brought here." He gestured to the rest of his cousins, slightly trembling, behind him.

Suddenly, a man centered himself in the room. Tony recognized his father.

"Well, everyone, let's have a little fun. Kids?" He called.

So he wasn't drunk yet.

"Come on, get the hell out here!" He growled. The kids shuffled. The adults had formed a huge circle, and were cheering and whispering excitedly to each other.

"All right. Let's get this fight on?"

_FIGHT?_

Tony suddenly felt sick.

"Alrighty, then. First, Mick and my boy, Tony. Y'all know the rules: crybaby's the loser!' He whooped.

"Oh no." Mick's face fell.

"What?"

"They're gonna make us fight, little man."

"What? Why?"

"They made me do this, too. You fight. First one to cry loses."

"What?"

"Come on." He lightly pushed me.

They went into the circle, taking off their shirts.

"Ready…"

Tony looked his cousin in the eye.

"Set…"

Mickey met his.

"Go!"

In a split second, his cousin had a horrid look on his face. A face of grief, horror.

He mouthed the words "I'm sorry."

And then he lunged at him. He hit his jaw. Tony felt something snap. Tears came to his eyes. But he wouldn't cry.

He refused.

And so, he lunged back, socking him in the stomach repeatedly. One, two, one, two. One right after another. Mickey doubled over, clutching his stomach. He looked up. Unshed tears shone brightly in the dim fluorescent light of the house. The family cheered. I wanted to turn and run away. The life would be beaten out of me before I made it twelve steps.

Mickey came back sweeping Tony, knocking him to the ground. He straddled Tony, pinning his arms with his legs. He punched him, hitting his cheek. He kept hitting him, one fist after the other.

"Tony." He suddenly whispered. "Cry. It'll all be over if you do."

Tony let the words sink in. The, he made the slightest movement with his head.

He let the tears he had been holding back come to his eyes.

"Loser!" Mick suddenly cried. The audience cheered, clapping Mick on the back. The small crowd began to disperse. Mick gently seized Tony's arm.

"Come on, lil' cuz. Let's get you fixed up."

He led Tony to the bathroom, which was surrounded by my other cousins. Suddenly, a little, brown-haired figure came running out, throwing her arms him

"Delia." Tony smiled.

"Toe-neeeh." She looked up at him. He got on my knees. Delia ran her hand across his face. "Tony hurt." She said, bringing her hand back. To Tony's horror, it was covered in blood.

"Yeah, Delia. Tony got hurt." Tony sighed.

"Delia no like Tony hurt!" She cried out, hugging him tighter. She started crying.

"Hey, baby girl. It's okay."

"Tony no have get hurt again, right Mickey?" She asked, turning to his older cousin. He turned from the First Aid kit he had, a grave look on his face.

"No, sweetheart. Not tonight." He said, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Not tonight."

He took out a bottle of something, put some of it on a cotton ball, and began dabbing around Tony's forehead. Tony winced.

"Sorry." The older boy muttered.

He gently cleaned up Tony's wounds, bandaging and covering everything.

When he was finished, he gently hugged Tony.

"I'm so sorry, Tony." He had tears in his eyes. "I never wanted this life for you."

Tony hugged him back.

"TONY!" His father suddenly screamed. "WE'RE LEAVING!"

Tony jumped. "I'm sorry, Mickey."

"No, I'm sorry." He looked his little cousin in the eye. "Be safe, little bro."

"TONY, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"Coming, Dad!" He turned to his cousin and waved.

His father waited for him out in the car.

Suddenly, DiNozzo Senior gripped Tony's hair.

"You know how much you humiliated me, boy?" He threw him against the car. "You cost me a hundred bucks!"

"I'm-I'm sorry, Dad-" Tony began, but his father punched him in the face. For the second time that night, Tony felt his nose snap.

Blood trickled onto his lips and down his chin.

"You-little-ass." Each word was accentuated by a blow to his stomach, making Tony double over in pain.

"Stop. Please, Daddy." Tony begged.

"Don't you call me that. Now get your ass in that car. _Now." _Tony clambered into the car, his hands covering his face.

After all, his father would beat the crap out of him for getting blood all over the car.

At "home", Tony silently went into his room. He grabbed his belongings-his book, Romeo and Juliet, his teddy bear, his crappy MP3 player, and three hundred dollars he had made by doing odd jobs, like grooming dogs and mowing lawns. He threw his belongings in his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. He climbed out the window, and ran into the street. He turned around, for a brief moment. To look at the only place he knew. But he hated it. He would leave, and never come back.

And with that, he set out into the dark night.

* * *

TBC.

My plot bunnies are at it again.

Please, tell what you think!

I want to see reviews!

Love you all, R&R!

-Vi


	2. A Family?

A/N: Jeez, guys, I appreciate the alerts and favorites and everything, but why two reviews? Come on, guys. If you can take the time to alert and favorite, it only takes, like, two seconds more to review!

* * *

Tony groaned, rubbing his neck. He had slept on the bus stop bench, and his neck was sore and stiff.

How he wanted to go home

_No, _he scolded himself. _You will not return to that living hell._

_Never._

So he got up, grabbing his things, and started walking, looking for somewhere to go.

He pulled out a one-dollar bill. Today's rations.

He walked into the small mini-mart to his left. He browsed the shelves. At last, he found a 99 cent loaf of bread. He smiled. This would probably last him three to four days!

He walked outside, and suddenly was knocked over. He felt fists being pummeled against him. He cried out, and rolled out from under his attacker. A man stood there, with a black hoodie that shrouded his face in shadow, making him seem all the more scary. Tony put down his bag, and socked him in the gut, the same way he did Mickey all those days ago. One, two, one, two. Then, to finish him off, Tony hurled a fist at his face. It connected with his jaw, and he buckled. Tony straddled him, and yanked the hoodie off of him.

It wasn't a man.

It was a boy.

He had hazel eyes, but, right now, they were filled with fear. He had messy sandy hair and a slightly chubby build.

"I-I'm sorry." He stuttered.

"What do you want?" Tony growled, pressing his arm against the boy's throat.

"I'm sorry, they sent me after you, to jump you, p-please, I'm really sorry!"

"TIM!"

The boy twisted around, even though he was still locked in Tony's grip.

Tony looked up. Another man, dressed in the same black hoodie and jeans, smiled darkly out from under his hood. He had dark brown, almost black eyes, with a twisted grin.

"Well, that was quite an impressive takedown, boy. What's your name?"

Tony stood up. He raised his eyebrows, suspicious.

"Tony. Tony DiNozzo."

"Dag. Dag Carmichael." The bigger boy stuck out his hand to help Tony up. Tony took it, standing up.

"That there is Timothy. You can call him Tim." He gestured to the boy that had tried to overpower me, who was now standing up, dusting off his shirt. "Come with me."

"What?" Tony stepped back. Dag laughed. "Come on, we don't bite."

"Yeah, because I have so many reasons to trust you." Tony said, sarcasm oozing in his tone. Dag suddenly stepped right into his face.

"Something tells me you're a street kid."

"What?"

"Where's your family, huh?"

Tony suddenly became silent. "I don't have one." He mumbled.

"Do you want one?"

Tony cocked his head. "What?"

"Brotherhood, DiNozzo. A place to call your own. A family."

Tony's heart lightened at the prospect of having a true family. Suddenly, it sank again.

"What's the catch?"

"There isn't one, boy. Family doesn't have a catch." Dag sighed.

_My last one sure did, _Tony thought.

"Fine, I'll go." He said.

"Come on, then." He beckoned for him to follow. The boy, Tim, hung back with Tony.

"Listen, again, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Tony said suddenly. "If my survival was dependent on it, I would do it, too."

"I haven't officially introduced myself. Timothy McGee. You can call me Tim." He stuck out his hand.

"Tony DiNozzo."

Dag walked up to…a warehouse. It looked like it had been empty for years, by its peeling paint and faded lettering.

Dag walked to the side of it, and knocked once on the metal door.

Suddenly, a little slot in the door slipped open, to reveal two bright blue eyes.

"Name?"

"Your frigging leader, you doorknob." Dag growled.

"Alright, alright! Cool down, big dog." The voice muttered. Suddenly, a lock clicked, and the door swung open.

About thirty teenage boys were mulling around inside the warehouse. Some were laughing loudly, some smoking, some swigging from bottles. A few even had their eyes glued to an old TV set. Tony gulped.

"Hey, boys!" Dag called. All the boys shut up. The warehouse was completely silent.

"Say hello to the newest. This is Tony. He's joining Brisbane!" Dag shouted.

_Brisbane? Sounds like gang._

Tony turned to Dag. "You left out the part about the gang."

"Hey, man, I offered you a family. You better be frigging grateful." Dag snarled.

Tim clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Tony. I'll show you to ya bunk." He turned to Dag. "Dag, I'mma let him room with me."

Tim maneuvered through the crowd, eventually leading to a metal door.

"In here." Tim opened the door.

Inside were two beds. One had a worn out black backpack at the end of it. A silver pocketknife lay at the end with the bag. The other was bare, save for a pillow and a blanket.

"That one's yours." Tim said, gesturing to the empty one. Tony threw his bag at the end of it.

Tim bustled around his bed. He gingerly touched the spot on his jaw where Tony had hit him. A purple bruise had blossomed on it.

"Hey, sorry about that." Tony said as Tim took out a first aid kit and took out an ice pack, and put it on the bruise.

"Don't be." Tim said, still gingerly holding it. "I would've done the same."

Tony didn't begin to unpack his things- he was still uneasy about the thought of joining a gang.

"I was just a kid."

Tony turned. Tim sat on the bed, staring blankly at the floor.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, sitting next to him.

"That's all I was when it happened. A kid. A stupid kid."

"What happened?" Tony asked. He was worried- Tim had a blank, haunted look on his face that Tony never thought he would see on just a boy.

"I ran away from home when I was nine. My father was abusive. I hated him so much. One day, I was done with him-" Tim gulped "Taking my life and doing what he wanted with it. So I ran off. I lived as a street kid for about two years."

"And then Dag took you in?" Tony inquired.

"Nope. Story gets better." Tim grimaced. "When I was about eleven, my father found me, somehow. He cornered me in an alley. Told me about how I had totally fucked up his life for him. The police were after him, he had a couple wanted posters up, and shit like that. So he threatened me. With everything. He had a knife to my throat. And I freaked out. I whipped out my pocket knife and stabbed him. Multiple times. I kept stabbing until he fell off of me. I looked down at him, and he wasn't moving. I freaked out and ran. And _that's _when Dag took me in."

Tony's head swam. This boy was a murderer. The chubby boy sitting before him had killed before.

"I've been living here ever since. You have to do stuff, but it's a home. It's food. It's a life. A family." He sighed.

_It's a life. A family._

And it was the best I could hope for right now.

* * *

**So sorry for the long-ass wait!**

**And, btw, just as a question, are any of you guys into Rizzoli and Isles?**

**I've been hearing about it, watched some on YouTube, and I'm falling in love, Holy CRAP!**

**Anyways, review and love me!**

**-Vi**


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